


That Blasted Radio

by sylviayesmickey



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Camping, F/M, M/M, Minor Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Road Trips, Ronan Lynch & Blue Sargent Friendship, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviayesmickey/pseuds/sylviayesmickey
Summary: Another camping scenario to contribute to the pynch universe! Begins with a road trip, ends by a campfire, and there's a motel somewhere in the middle.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	That Blasted Radio

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! One of the first pynch fan fictions i read on AO3 was also a camping-type fic. I re-read it recently (it's that good!), and realized I'd unintentionally drawn some parallels in my own fanfiction, so...  
> To give credit where credit is certainly due, my work was inspired by the one linked below! Check it out, it's a wonderful read and you won't regret it!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227384/chapters/21082457#workskin

It was around midnight. Gansey was behind the wheel of the Pig, his contact-covered-eyes carefully on the road, glasses hanging on his bright yellow polo shirt. Adam was asleep in the passenger seat. An unfolded road map lay across his chest, the last remnant of an excuse that had kept Ronan out of the easy radio access that their typical seating arrangements provided. Ronan and Noah claimed the window seats in the back of the Camaro, with Blue stuck in the middle. This was beneficial for several reasons: Blue fit better in the middle seat, Noah would be right next to Blue for extra energy, and (though this final reason was unspoken) it meant that Gansey could easily share glances with Blue in the rear-view mirror.

They were all packed to spend the night on the road, the ultimate goal being a campground outside of a small town that was close to where Henrietta’s ley line intersected with another. Although they could’ve booked a local bed and breakfast for their visit, it would’ve meant expenses, which meant Adam insisting to split the bill or making up a reason not to go. Nobody mentioned that the campground had a fee for reservations.

The five rode in companionable silence. Ronan had been backseat driving the radio despite their efforts to the contrary, including his quiet insistence at turning the radio off when he noticed Adam slipping in and out of sleep. Blue and Gansey had shared one of their private glances at that, Gansey’s eyes curious and Blue’s eyes knowing.

Around one in the morning, Gansey stopped for gas station coffee for himself (the insomniac driver) and Ronan (the avoidant dreamer). Blue had curled against Ronan’s shoulder to sleep, so he went into the gas station alone. He was pretty sure he needed that coffee – he thought he’d seen Ronan rest his head against Blue’s in the rear-view. Maybe a new prescription.

When he re-entered the driver’s seat of the Camaro, Gansey noted somewhat enviously that the back seat had turned into an obscene cuddle-fest. Noah’s arms were wrapped around Blue and his cheek smushed on the side of her arm. Blue had one arm pinned by Noah, the other linked with Ronan’s, and her head on the boy’s shoulder. Gansey blinked. Twice. Took a sip of his coffee. Sure enough, Ronan had reciprocated the gesture, his shaved head against Blue’s tufted one. It even appeared that he had accommodated for Blue’s height and lowered the side of his body that she was leaning on. Gansey also didn’t fail to notice Ronan’s painfully icy glare, no doubt an attempt to communicate violent threats if he dared say a word about it. He quickly handed Ronan his coffee and returned to his driving duties.

The Camaro, miraculously, waited to sputter slowly to death until they were passing a 24-hour roadside motel. It was sketchy but accommodating, Gansey discovered, as he successfully rented a room with two queen sized beds. Blue had woken up immediately when the Camaro started making alarming noises. Adam did not. He had taken extra shifts the week leading up to their trip to account for wages lost during their excursion. Nobody had fought him on it, it was a miracle he had decided to come at all. The boy remained in deep sleep as Blue, Ronan, and Noah waited outside his passenger door in the dimly lit parking lot. The asphalt still seemed warm from the heat of the day, even though it was now nearing 2 am. The ancient neon sign for the motel was flickering every two seconds. When Gansey returned with the room key, Ronan quietly opened the car door and lifted Adam into his arms. Though he was all dead weight and exhaustion, he felt barely heavier than Blue.

Ronan held Adam while Gansey gently removed his shoes, and waited for Blue to pull back the grandmotherly bedspread and sheets before he laid him down on the mattress. Ronan Lynch did _not_ tuck anyone into bed, but when Gansey double checked that he’d locked the Pig and Blue and Noah went to scout the bathroom, he pulled the covers gently up to Adam’s chin and arranged his head to look more comfortable on the pillow. Ronan removed his own shoes (a pair of scuffed combat boots) and set them next to Adam’s, only allowing himself a split second to covet the simple domestic beauty of the scene. He waited his turn for the bathroom, then laid down next to Adam on top of the sheets, closing his eyes and leaving the other bed for Gansey, Blue, and Noah to figure out.

The summer heat faded through the night, and Ronan felt a little cold around five in the morning when he rolled over for the fifth time and Adam woke up.

“Ro-nan?” Adam murmured, his voice tired, his eyes tired, “Where are we?” Ronan’s heart had stopped at the way Adam said his name, soft and layered in sleep. If he and Adam shared a bed every night, would he hear that more often?

“Camaro broke down. Everyone’s safe, go back to sleep.” Ronan whispered.

“Mmkay. Why are you sleeping on top of the covers? It’s cold.” Adam whispered back, burrowing his nose deeper into the covers, as if to prove a point.

“I can’t.” Ronan softly responded. Adam had no right looking so cute, his dusty brown hair poking up in all sorts of directions, eyes closing again against his will.

“Sure you can, ‘m not sleeping until you do.” Adam replied, his voice a low mumble, as he reached out faintly towards Ronan. He was too tired for his arm to make it very far, but the gesture made a flush rise to Ronan’s neck all the same.

“Okay,” said Ronan, faintly, as he moved under the covers, his limbs a careful distance from Adams. The other boy was already asleep, his fingertips a tangible millimeter away from Ronan’s bicep.

In the morning, after Ronan extracted himself carefully from the arm Adam had managed to sling across his chest in the night, the four piled back into the Pig and Gansey tried the ignition. It ran smoothly after a night to cool down, which allowed Adam off the hook for any mechanical duties. He promptly went back to sleep in the passenger seat. Blue talked Ronan and Noah into rolling their windows down, and the three (plus Gansey, occasionally) ambled into easy conversation.

“Jane?” Gansey asked, this time breaking their conversation not with an addition to it, but with a side request courtesy of his rumbling stomach, “Could you pass me a bagel?”

Blue, who had been sitting with the road-snack bag between her legs, offered up a pumpernickel bagel to Gansey before sticking another in her mouth. She raised an eyebrow at Ronan, who held out his hand. Blue handed him the second to last bagel. She peered up at Adam, who needed to eat more than any of them, but was still asleep. Ronan made a small, disgruntled noise before leaning forward and reaching around the headrest to give his shoulder a gentle shake.

“Adam? Could you eat this damn bagel before Gansey fucking finishes them all?” Ronan put the bagel in Adam’s mouth when he opened it to respond.

“Asshole.” Adam retorted, blearily, all the bite in his voice muffled by the bagel.

When the Camaro finally pulled up to their campsite around 2:45 in the afternoon, Adam had brightened up, Ronan was in a somewhat sour mood from being cooped in the backseat so long, and Noah was hyper due to their proximity to two ley lines (although holding hands with Blue certainly helped). Blue and Ronan set up the tents (Gansey owned a large eight-man monstrosity, but Blue had insisted they bring two three-man tents with a twinkle in her eye and a glance at Ronan and Adam) with Noah’s not-so-helpful assistance, while Gansey prepared food and Adam started the fire.

After eating an early dinner, Noah began to push Ronan to sing. This resulted in a loud, raucous rendition of the murder squash song, Noah belting along the whole time.

Blue thought she saw Gansey cry a bit when they didn’t stop after the first chorus, but it may have been a trick of the firelight.

They turned into their tents around 10, which was earlier than Ronan and Gansey ever fell asleep. Gansey seemed somewhat excited to go to bed anyways, but perhaps that was because of his tentmate. Noah didn’t really sleep, but had been grouped into whatever tent Blue was in because the gang figured he might need her energy. Once they’d gotten to the campsite, however, Noah had done just fine. In fact, he was doing almost annoyingly fine. He wasn’t quite as solid as he was on a good day in Cabeswater, before the energy was drained by the various local dream thieves, but he was hyper enough without Blue’s energy that he didn’t really _need_ to stay in her tent all night.

He had an honorary sleeping bag, and he had scooted it closer to Blue’s, but it was really more to tease Gansey when he immediately began cuddling her.

“Hey!” Gansey protested, annoyed by Noah’s unnecessary clinginess to his secretly beloved Jane. “Too much PDA in the tent!”

“ _Please,”_ said Noah, sending a wink and a mouthed “you looooove her” to Gansey when Blue wasn’t looking.

Gansey huffed.

Meanwhile, in the other tent, Ronan and Adam were lying quietly in their sleeping bags, Adam looking up at the stars, Ronan looking nowhere in particular, and not talking.

“Shouldn’t we have brought a damn rain tarp?” Ronan asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “We’re going to get fucking soaked if the sky opens up on us.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Adam said, “What did the weather report say?”

“Fuck if I know. Can’t you flip a tarot, magician?” Ronan replied, his words harsh but tone amiable.

“Didn’t Gansey check the weather?”

“Probably.”

“It’s a 14 percent chance, but anything under 30 percent doesn’t count!” Gansey shouted from the other tent. “And keep your voice down, some of us are trying to sleep!”

“You mean the maggot?” Ronan shot back. Gansey never sleeps this early.

“I am trying to sleep, thanks for your consideration! But if you have anything juicy to say, speak up, I don’t mind!” Blue’s voice interrupted whatever retort Gansey had been preparing. The tent intercommunication fell to silence.

That night, it rained.

“Oh, come on.” Ronan muttered. He noted that the mesh of the tent was mostly on the right side, above Adam’s head, whereas his side of the tent had no mesh _and_ was under the partial protection of a tree.

Adam was fast asleep, and Ronan saw that a few droplets had already made their way through the mesh and had landed on his sleeping bag.

“Adam, c’mere,” Ronan said, shaking him a bit. The boy didn’t stir, so he pulled Adam’s sleeping bag over, out of the way of the mesh opening.

It wasn’t very cold, and Adam apparently had left his sleeping bag unzipped. He rolled out of his sleeping bag when it was pulled out from under him.

“Fuckity damnit to shitty fuck,” Ronan swore, sitting up properly now and shaking Adam. The boy responded with the word “bugs” and then “Ronan” and then “kihsbuge”, which Ronan was pretty sure was total nonsense, and also a sign that the boy wouldn’t be waking up. He gently lifted Adam off of the ground and out of any rain drops, and accidentally dropped him by about an inch when he moved to put him back in his sleeping bag.

“Fuck!” Adam exclaimed, his eyes wide open from the sensation of falling.

“I dropped you by like, a fucking millimeter,” Ronan grumbled.

“Did you move me over here? Shit, it’s raining.” Adam replied, a bit scrambled after falling off a huge cliff in his dream. “Thanks for moving me out of the rain.” He said the last part quieter, his brain preoccupied with the thought that if Ronan had dropped him, he must’ve been carrying him. They lay side by side just barely out of the downpour (thank goodness the dry side was on an uphill) and didn’t talk about it.

When Ronan opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself nose to nose with Adam. He’d had a dreamless sleep.

Adam woke up a little later, the tent empty, to the sound of Gansey and Blue groaning about how soaked the tents were. It seemed as though they’d had the sense, like Ronan, to scooch into the dry side. Adam mustered up the will to climb out of the tent.

A few weeks ago, Adam had found a small dream radio sitting on his front step. It looked old-school and was made of faded orange and cream plastic. All five of the stations (no matter the signal) played loud (volume not adjustable) Celtic music. Gansey and Ronan had swung by St. Agnes unannounced one day, and found Adam working on the Hondayota with the radio blaring. Gansey, of course, had fallen in love with the radio, and insisted it was brought along on the camping trip.

The radio was brought out now, and Adam watched with amusement as Gansey fiddled with the dial, delighted. He seemed to be fixated on the back of the radio, now, flipping open a small panel on the back.

“Hey guys!” Gansey exclaimed, “There’s a secret button!” He pressed it.

Gansey screamed in anguish.

“Oh my god,” Adam said, “Ronan…if this is what plays in your head, no wonder you’re so grouchy.”

“Shove it, Parrish.” Ronan replied. He seemed unfazed by the horrifying mashup of the Murder Squash song, “What Does the Fox Say”, and what can only be described as a Kidz Bop version of The Song That Never Ends.

“Jane—Jane, Janejanejane” Gansey gasped frantically, mashing the button. “Help me! It won’t turn off, it’s so loud, why couldn’t you make the sound negotiable, Ronan?” Blue took the radio from Gansey’s hands. It amplified to a deafening volume.

“UH, I THINK SOMEONE ELSE SHOULD TAKE THIS!” Blue shouted over the music, trying to hand the radio to Adam, who was laughing too hard to be of use to anyone. “ADAM! I’M ONLY MAKING IT LOUDER, AND MAYBE YOUR RADIO WILL LISTEN TO YOU!”

“PLEASE TAKE IT, ADAM, I THINK MY TEMPANIC MEMBRANES ARE RUPTURING!” Gansey screeched.

Adam was keeled over, knocking against Ronan, giggling with a fervor that none of them had witnessed before. “RONAN, YOU’RE BRILLIANT!” He gasped out, as he composed himself enough to take the radio from Blue. The volume decreased to just-loud once it left her fingertips. Adam pressed the wretched button, and the music changed.

It wasn’t the original Celtic tunes. This was…different. “Do I Wanna Know” by the Arctic Monkeys was playing. Ronan looked a bit surprised that this was happening, a bit unsurprised that this was happening, and a bit embarrassed that this was happening. He internally damned his subconscious thrice over. Adam was staring at him, and normally this wouldn’t be a point of complaint, but these weren’t exactly normal circumstances.

Adam felt a bit unsure about how to act in this situation. Gansey, Blue, and Noah were watching him and Ronan. He was watching Ronan. Ronan was watching a point somewhere on the ground. Alex Turner’s words suddenly felt very significant. It had only played the song when he touched the button. Ronan had made it for him. The button was kind of secret but hoping to be found, like a confession. Adam supposed he already kind of knew Ronan liked him. He supposed he already knew he liked Ronan back. That this might be the push that they both needed.

Adam touched a hand to Ronan’s cheek.

Ronan leaned into Adam’s hand involuntarily, then froze. He’d been meaning to stand up, to run as far away as he could, longing for the BMW, the Barns, his closed door at Monmouth. Instead he sat next to Adam around a fire, their friends around them, feeling like he should be angrily stomping off to brood and kick at a few trees before walking the two miles into the small town and finding a liquor store. He did none of this, the rough callouses on Adam’s hands absorbing all the fight out of Ronan through every spot where they touched his face.

“Ronan, it’s okay,” Adam started gently, brushing his thumb along the boy’s sharp cheekbone.

“Look, Parrish,” Ronan said, turning his head to look at Adam. It didn’t sound like he’d planned anything else to say, instead, the words appeared to mean more of a “Look, Parrish!” as if Adam’s last name was a species of rare birds in a field that Ronan, the safari guide, was proudly presenting to his high paying clients. “And over there, lions!”.

Ronan gave up on the rest of his sentence. His brain had stopped functioning properly and was moving into fantastical analogies. He reached up to touch the hand on his cheek, then, keeping it there, leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Adam’s. The heat from the fire was warm on both of their faces, and Ronan smiled when Adam kissed him back. Gansey’s mouth dropped open incredulously, but shifted into a shocked smile. Blue was grinning madly, and Noah, who had his head in her lap, looked content that he wouldn’t need to keep this pointless secret any longer.

“Maybe we should go…look at something else?” Gansey suggested, as things were starting to heat up.

Ronan and Adam were properly making out now. The hand that Adam had previously placed on Ronan’s cheek had now gone down his neck and through the back of his shirt to brush over the tattooed muscles there. Ronan had hands on both sides of Adam’s face as if he might be taken away any moment.

“Hey,” Adam mumbled in between the push and pull of their kiss. Ronan drew back worriedly. Quick to reassure, Adam gingerly traced a line from one of the hands on his face back to its source, pulling closer so that their foreheads were touching. Adam touched a finger to Ronan’s bottom lip. “This isn’t a one-time thing; I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’d better fucking not,” Ronan replied, “Kiss me right the fuck now.”

Adam obliged. He could feel both the warmth from the fire, the sun, and from Ronan in every place they were touching. His mouth, his hands, one in his hair, one on the move to who knows where. It traveled from his neck, to his shoulder, down his chest and ended its journey at his waist. He could feel a warm spot where their legs touched, the two of them sitting closer now. A knee pressed into the middle of his inner thigh. Another brushing the outside of his right knee. He thought that even after they pulled away, Adam would feel warmth in the spots Ronan had touched for hours after. He could hardly feel the campfire, the sun, all he could feel was Ronan. Touching him, just him.

His head tilted, inviting more warmth.

Ronan felt dizzied like he’d just drunken fifteen beers. But this was different, this was better. This was like if the beer tasted of warmth and Adam, and if the beer bottle felt like soft hair and a firm waist. _Did the beer bottle have abs?_ Ronan wondered, slipping a hand up Adam’s shirt. The beer bottle did have abs. It was also different in that instead of it being a simple bottle of beer, it was _Adam_. The boy he loved, the one he had _pined_ over for so long. Adam, with his freckles and his mannerisms and the way he looked after a shift at Boyd’s, the way he smelled, all gasoline, the way his hands… Ronan began to seek Adam’s hands with his own. He figured he’d probably have to search everywhere to find them, so why not start with under his shirt? A little detour couldn’t hurt, not if the detour felt this good…


End file.
